


Like Cranes in the Sky

by Capzi



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bisexual Loki (Marvel), Brothers, Canon Compliant, Drinking & Talking, Feelings, Gen, Genderfluid Loki (Marvel), Intersex Loki (Marvel), Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 19:17:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13173483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capzi/pseuds/Capzi
Summary: Val finished her shot and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.“Your little brother’s a slut,” she said flatly.-Thor just wants to be a good king on this weird planet. Loki just wants to get laid (or so he says). These goals are not strictly compatible.





	Like Cranes in the Sky

* * *

 

The end was four months old, and things were going well.

As far as Thor could judge.

Today.

 

Ferrying an entire planet to a new world had been possibly the greatest challenge a new king could imagine to undertake with his homeless subjects, a whirl of exhaustion coupled with the tireless need to do, give, more. And now…it was done.

 

Banner’s home, everyone’s home now. This would be their kingdom, Thor reminded himself daily. He hoped they could stick together and just as fervently, privately, hoped they wouldn’t.

Heimdall understood. On such a bountiful planet of billions, the desire to explore was stronger for some than the need to seek familiarity. In many, it was both, and so he elected to head an exploratory trip to Lofoten to see if their people could indeed make Asgard there. Thor saw them off, assuaging fears about the safety of the unwieldy Migardian airplanes and inviting all to go forth with the blessing of their king. His own melancholy toward the place was reserved for just himself and Heimdall’s knowing golden gaze.

This left some two hundred within the city. As on the ship, everyone needed food and clothing and a place to sleep. They were a poor nation now, dependent on Stark Industries’ vast coffers as they scrabbled to rebuild.

First the children – wide-eyed at the different sorts of magic in this world –and then the adults followed their king’s lead into the intricacies of life on Migard, and they learned quickly. How the ubiquitous cars did not slow for foot traffic. Food was plentiful but strange, in dazzling colors and packages. The children all wanted mobile phones. A city already full of immigrants has no time to look askance at people who have no idea what a social security number might be.

 

And so all began anew.

 

A day of job-hunting with Asgard’s seamstresses and mission to find school clothes for the teenagers had been successful, leaving Thor free to retire to his own spacious Stark-appointed penthouse. He was not in the least surprised to find it occupied, however.

Banner, similarly displaced on this planet, raised his glass in greeting without halting the conversation taking place over the kitchen counter.

“That makes sense. If those two years worked out to possibly more than a hundred on Sakaar, I was locked out of the controls way longer than should have ever been possible. Do those years count? I feel old.”

A pale, languid hand reached for the whiskey bottle to refill Banner’s glass.

“You certainly look it,” Loki hummed.

All the long trek, Thor had been resolute that he keep his brother under close watch once they arrived, a sentiment shared by all concerned, it seemed. Rogers’ first sentence to him had been a hello and his second, an offer to personally escort Loki to a government-classified underground bunker on an unspecified island. Stark had suggested a return to the muzzle and handcuffs (puzzling Thor, who would have expected a more effective method from their resident engineering genius).

Brothers, rulers of Asgard, and…roommates, then. They’d been through worse.

Thor retrieved his own tankard and wordlessly presented it to Loki, who filled the glass with much more reluctance than he’d shown Banner.

“My King,” he said tartly.

Thor ignored this and settled back against the counter.

“Age is a mortal condition, Banner. To have visited another world, and to have lived a lifetime before your due: ‘tis more than any human could expect.”

“So what, you’re saying you want me to be, oh, _grateful_ for all this?”

“No, merely aware of the significance.” Thor drained his glass and pushed it back toward his brother. “The weight of such an experience is a heavy load.”

“Well, I disagree,” Loki put in, refilling the tankard with an exaggerated flick of his wrist. “You should feel privileged to have extended your life by so many years, and humbled to have survived. The Grandmaster was generous in his keeping of you. Few could say as much.”

Banner lifted his glass and twirled his finger through the condensation left beading on the marble counter.

“Speaking of. You never did say how you managed to gain the Grandmaster’s favor yourself, Loki.”

The smile that snaked across his brother’s face was one Thor recognized immediately: dark and mischievous and boding ill for the both of them. But he too was curious about Loki’s time on Sakaar.

“It was no easy matter. The Grandmaster is extremely selective in all aspects of his life, including the company he keeps.”

Pleased as ever to have an audience, Loki paused to collect his thoughts, smirk deepening. He’d been waiting for someone to ask this, Thor realized.

“I had to prove my worth to him, and quickly, as someone who could offer what no other could.”

“Wha’d you do?” Banner interrupted.

“Magic.” Thor stated flatly.

“No. Spellcasting is hardly unique in such a diverse world as Sakaar. An engaging party guest is valued much more. I had no invitation, that first night, but I did manage my way in with a most intriguing leather costume and a promise to be _very_ entertaining.”

Banner snorted as he inhaled half his drink on a laugh. Thor merely frowned, seeing the end of this story unfolding and disapproving of it. Loki’s eyes flashed with glee.

“I was adored. I could hardly keep up with the attention, so I was forced to draw a mimic to amuse the other guests while I sought out the Grandmaster. He was pouting, disappointed by the day’s contest and bored with his usual indulgences of food, spirits, music. I dared approach, offering again to deliver fun of an entirely different sort. He accepted with his own words of promise, telling me he rarely came across such a rare beauty and was in dire need of my help to rescue him from the dull, fruitless evening –”

“Loki, Banner is not so accustomed to your silver tongue and will surely leave us in a moment, tired of your lies.”

Thor drained his tankard for a second time and once more nudged it back across the counter, gaze hard and challenging on his brother.

“I speak the truth,” Loki hissed, refusing to acknowledge the empty glass between them. He took a deep breath and his anger drained to allow in a lecherous sneer. “At any rate, it was my silver tongue that convinced the Grandmaster of my value. He _valued_ me tremendously, all night long, and as often as he pleased, his tireless Champion off the coliseum…”

“Enough!” Thor belted, bringing his fist down on the marble with a crack. “I won’t hear any more of the crown prince of Asgard degrading himself to a madman on a trash planet. It is beneath you, Loki, to use yourself in such a way.”

Fire alit in Loki’s hot eyes and he swept Thor’s tankard to the floor with a crash. When he spoke, it was so low, he seemed to radiate the words rather than say them.

“I did what I had to do.”

“You did what you wanted to do, same as ever.”

Loki straightened and his expression became unknowable. Another sweep of his hand vanished the glass flung across the kitchen and brought the three of them fresh tankards, Banner’s much too full for a mortal on a Tuesday evening.

“Fine. What harm is there in admitting that I enjoyed it?” He grinned and sank down to the counter on his elbows to press the whiskey a bit closer to Banner, who looked thoroughly bemused at the turn the conversation had taken. “Is that one of my many crimes, Thor? To revel in the pleasures of the flesh? Was I meant to merely suffer on the trash world, with its mad trash king, and watch as the Beast got to have all the fun at the mad, mad, trashy orgies?”

“You know what I meant, brother. I’ll take my leave now.”

Thor stalked out of the room, unable to stomach Loki’s self-satisfied beam and equally unable to block out Banner’s quick speech, “Wait, I’ve got questions, lots of questions. You just walked right in to the, the crazy guy’s party and blew him away with sex? Just how good are you?!

And you’re telling me that the Hulk was invited to _orgies?_ Did we hurt anyone?”

 

 

It was a petty concern, Thor knew, but he missed his hair. Years of growth gone, leaving him looking like any other mortal man. He found himself reaching back to secure it only to run his hand over the chopped edges often. More poignantly, he missed the ritual of braiding it, sitting patiently after a bath while delicate fingers twisted the strands, eyes closed to let his mind wander through the latest battle or upcoming mission. The women of Asgard still gathered to complete this work, he knew, and longed for the day he could seek their help again.

But perhaps he wouldn’t. Maybe he was meant to bear this shorn sheep look as further proof of his own inner changes. Already he wasn’t the king he feared he would have to be.

This was the sort of question Thor wished to ponder with Loki, whose insight was as clever as his wit when he deigned to share it. However, Loki hadn’t seemed especially interested in strategizing as of late. Far from reaching to usurp Thor’s rule, he was distant. Absent, actually, out of the penthouse as often as Thor, who would accuse him of plotting if it weren’t for the lack of gleam in his tight, somber eyes. It didn’t suit the god of mischief at all, and so Thor was forced to call in an outside opinion.

Their own neighborhood Valkeryie chose to meet in a bar, naturally. She was seated close to the bartender, a row of empty glasses already lined up before her. The bartender smiled, looked relieved to see Thor coming to sit beside her, until he too ordered a line of shots. It wasn’t _his_ fault Migardian spirits lacked the fire of Asgardian apple juice.

Val finished her shot and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Your little brother’s a slut,” she said flatly. “Since we arrived on this pitiful planet, he’s been whoring around town shamelessly. I didn’t think it important to tell you, figured it was none of my business, but since you asked…”

Thor didn’t waste time wondering if she spoke the truth. She’d never had cause to lie to him before.

“As usual, it seems that if I’m not the object of Loki’s bad deeds, I’m the last to know of them.”

“So it seems,” Val agreed, taking advantage of the bartender’s turned back to down two of Thor’s line. She paused. “Listen, I know it’s a lot to take in, but if you don’t want to hear hairy scary details, then I’m off. Going to take another run at the test.”

“And I’ve told you the last three times, they’re never going to give you a driver’s license if you show up reeking like a liquor store, it doesn’t matter how well you do.”

“If I can navigate that ark down on a landing pad the size of a dinner tray after finishing off the last case of Fire Ale, I’d think I could manage a _combustible_ engine after an entire block of liquor stores.” The edges of her lips quirked. “Anyway. Is that all, then? The infamous, former war criminal prince, putting the ass back in Asgard?”

“I don’t understand him. Loki has a chance to start over here; I nearly recognized him as my brother again, and suddenly he chooses sex over reason?”

“I wouldn’t be so hasty to assume this has come out of nowhere,” Val cautioned. “When a person tries to lose themselves in something, well, maybe whatever needed looking at was too ugly to see. Having a distraction to dim your vision helps a lot. Trust me.” She grinned and swallowed down the last shot.

Thor’s stomach twisted so tightly at her words that he suspected she was right. The list of beasts facing down Loki ended far, _far_ after the Hulk.

“Indeed,” was all he could manage. Val clapped a hand on his arm and made to leave.

“Don’t be so serious, Your Majesty. At least Loki’s distraction is cheap!”

And with that, she flounced out of the bar, leaving Thor to settle the impressive tab.

 

Thor returned home late that evening, fresh from a sparring bout with Hulk and appropriately sweaty and invigorated, jabbing at the elevator button a few times in quick succession. The door opened at once, delivering a statuesque woman in a short green dress. Her eyes fell on Thor and darted away in a heartbeat, but it was no use.

“Loki.”

He reached for her thin wrist and she whirled away angrily, wrapping her fur more snuggly to her shoulders as she fled the building, Thor close behind.

“Loki,” he hissed. She ignored him and kept walking, heels clicking sharply on the pavement. “You know that I know it’s you. Why are you in this form?”

Loki rolled her eyes and tossed back a curl of black hair.

 _“Not_ that it is any of your business – at all, even remotely – but I have a date.” Her voice was high and pleasantly musical and hadn’t lost a bit of its mocking tones.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Oh my, doesn’t it?” Loki strode on, and Thor was forced to gallop to keep up.

“Do you go to all your dates nowadays as a woman?”

“Hardly.”

“So you still go on many as a man.”

“It appears.”

“Or do you also…”

“From time to time.”

“Are there many? Dates that is?”

“Certainly.”

“And you believe you’ll find a suitable companion by lying about yourself?”

Loki finally stopped, causing Thor to nearly crash into her on the pavement.

“Listen well, brother of mine,” she whispered with a breath of menace. “Where I go, and what I go as, is no concern of yours. You should recall it’s likely the God of Lies would tell a few of them occasionally, and in such a context as this, it isn’t as if I’m hurting anyone. On the contrary…”

Loki wet her red lips with a swipe of her tongue. She followed this with a most indecent grin and resumed her wild pace and this time, Thor let her go. He watched Loki melt into the frenzied crowds, longing for a moment for the days when they were young and foolish enough for him to believe whatever his brother had to say.

 

“My King. I so appreciate you taking the time to meet with me.”

The truth was, Thor welcomed a request for audience. It made him feel useful, trustworthy to be asked for a moment alone with one of his subjects, even if the days of grand meeting halls and the golden throne were passed forever. Instead, he had only the penthouse’s living room, with its pristine white couches and gaudy electric fireplace. Today, Thor had supplemented the cold room with a plate of the chocolate chip cookies everyone seemed so fond of, and pot of tea he’d attempted to brew himself. The royal family didn’t cook – Loki using magic to pull together whatever he wanted and Thor living mostly off take-out boxes – but he had tried to make an effort for the middle-aged woman smoothing her skirt on the couch opposite him.

“As your king, I am honored to be of service,” he said. Warmly, he hoped.

Brigit wrapped her hands around the cup she’d accepted and looked down, as if steadying herself.

“My King,” she started again, more quietly. “I pray you do not find me impertinent for bringing a personal matter to your attention.”

“Not in the least. All matters of the people of Asgard are of import to me. Whatever may be troubling you-”

“It is a personal matter involving _you,_ Your Majesty.”

Startled, Thor was thrown from his rehearsed script. But he motioned for Brigit to continue.

“I’m afraid it’s the prince. Forgive me for being indelicate, for you have lead us well during this journey to the new world, but Prince Loki’s conduct has not been fitting of the Asgardian crown. There have been…whispers of things in the night. Tales of his time on Sakaar. And yesterday – in broad daylight! – I and a few other ladies witnessed him doing something most ungentlemanly in a side alley with a young woman who was _entirely_ too vocal about the experience.”

Brigit said this last part in a breathless rush, obviously eager to have expressed it. When Thor failed to react, she frowned and sat upright on the couch, suddenly sounding like the school matrons of his youth.

“Your Highness, I have children to think of. What example do you call this for them to follow? The others and I are working tirelessly to establish ourselves here, and I’ll thank you and the prince to not make our work harder by giving Asgard a reputation as a nation of, well, _strumpets!_ Am I making myself well-understood?”

“Most assuredly so,” Thor answered politely and smiled as best he could. To himself, he thought, _When Odin spoke of the responsibility of rule, I doubt he had this scenario in mind._

 

Pacifying Brigit consumed the remainder of the afternoon, leaving Thor uninspired to do much else than poke at his Stark-issued iPad, with the intention of working out an electronic mail address. He found instead a most intriguing puzzle game of brightly colored cupcakes and rather charming, tuneful alerts when he completed a level. He had completed a great number of levels, lying prostrate on the couch, when he finally realized he was no longer alone in the room.

“Brother,” Loki inclined his head without looking up from his book. He had resumed his usual form.

“How long have you been sitting there?” Thor scrabbled to exit the game and pull himself upright at the same time.

“Since level fifteen. Kwazy Kupcakes, Thor?”

“A game of strategy and skill,” Thor answered firmly. He set aside the iPad, dismayed by how easily he’d fallen victim to its delights. “Blasted technology.”

“Oh, I don’t know. It certainly has its benefits. Access of information, exchange of ideas, ease of communication. Quicker than magic to connect with people.”

Loki turned a page, indifferent to what he’d just said, but Thor sensed an opening and did not intend to let it pass by untested. He carefully waited a moment before sliding back to one side of the couch.

“Loki.” There was no response.

“Brother. Come, let me braid your hair.” He thumped at the couch cushion in invitation.

Loki finally looked up to cast an incredulous expression. Even as a child, he had rejected this ritual, preferring to slick back his ever-lengthening locks himself. It did much for his appearing standoffish, an outsider in Asgard.

“You cannot be serious.”

“Come here. Indulge me in this; you still _have_ your hair, oily and vampire-ish as it may be.”

Loki let the jab pass. He hesitated a moment longer before walking over and slowly arranging himself on the couch, wary, like a wolf near another animal’s den.

Thor took up a section of long black hair above his brother’s ear, both of them ignoring the way Loki flinched slightly at the initial contact. But there was no further resistance. Thor enjoyed the feeling of crafting the silky black braid, carefully working down to the very tip. He began another under the first and when Loki did not object, set to arranging that one just as painstakingly.

“Fancy the king of Asgard, braiding hair,” Loki finally said. He kept perfectly still, both of them sitting cross-legged on that impractical white leather. “So you did braid your own.”

“Not if I could help it. It’s much better letting someone else do it for you. Feels nice, right?”

“Mmm,” Loki made a noncommittal noise. Thor shifted to the other side of his head.

“I thought you were interested in _connecting_ with people now.”

“It’s best to acclimate quickly, in a new place. I may as well have some fun along the way.”

“Your brand of fun tends to leave messes, though.”

“Well, as long as _you’re_ not the one cleaning them u-”

“I am.”

Loki pulled away, tearing the half-finished braid from Thor’s hands. He faced Thor with a glare.

“What is it you’re trying to say, _Brother?”_

“Brigit was here today, sharing gossip about you and a lady in an alley,” Thor admitted. “Not that it’s any of her concern. But she isn’t the only one worried.”

For a moment, Loki stared back sharply, his eyes betraying nothing of his thoughts. He reached for the teapot still sitting on the coffee table and heated the liquid inside with a twist of his hand. Thor offered his untouched mug.

“What would you have me do?” Loki asked quietly, holding the steaming mug close. “You would have me stop seeing people to cut down on gossip among the Asgardians? Ban sex to avoid awkward meetings with old biddies? Forgive me, King, but I have a hard time believing you care so deeply.”

He took a deep sip from the mug.

“This tea is awful. You must have made it yourself.”

“I’m not going to lose sleep over one woman’s ideas about our reputation. But I do care about you, Loki, and whatever is causing you to seek out these encounters.”

“I suspect it has to do with the ‘having sex’ part,” Loki answered drily.

“You’ve never had such a vigorous appetite before.”

“How would you know?” Loki snapped, then drew back, mouth tight with irritation. “There was a time you would applaud me, greet me with that manly bravado, for having managed to bed someone. Your concern is as abnormal as it is misplaced.”

“If I believed for a moment that you truly enjoyed all this common, meaningless sex, I wouldn’t say another word,” Thor pledged, cautioning himself to keep his voice from rising. “As you said before: it’s not a crime. You’re not really having fun though, are you, Loki? You always find yourself to be so clever, so unique, as if you’re the first to look for answers in someone else’s body for the night.”

“Shut up, Thor,” Loki sighed, his calm a warning.

“Using other people, telling yourself their approval, their admiration is the antidote you’ve been craving.”

He was pushing now, Thor knew, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop; it was so rare to be in the position in which _his_ words were affecting Loki, who now flushed with anger, long fingers clenching.

“Making yourself believe you’re in control, that you’re the one getting the better deal. Open your eyes! You must be blinder than I if you continue to delude yourself into thinking these cheap hook-ups see you as anything other than a pretty face and a willing hole or two for their pleasure. They don’t care for you, Loki. They won’t give you the true affection and companionship you deserve, the kind you’re craving deep dow-”

There was a terrific crash as the teapot, fireplace, Thor’s iPad, and two windows exploded into shreds of glass and metal. Dust floated through the clear sunlight as the noise of the city settled into the room. Shallow cuts gleamed blood on Thor’s forearms and Loki stood, looking down at his own hands in a way that made Thor realize he hadn’t meant to make this happen.

Thor made a noise, intending to say what, he did not know, but Loki stopped him with a look roiling over with regret, anger, and terrible sadness. There was a gash dripping down his left temple and the unfinished braid hung lank over his shoulder.

But Loki was ever Loki and when he spoke, his voice was steady.

“You were right too, Thor. I do only as I want to do. I suppose I want these messes after all.”

He swept a hand over himself, closing up the gash and plaiting back the braid and another beside it so that all four wove together into one at the back of his head. The effect was beautiful, shaming the quality of Thor’s own handiwork.

“Loki,” Thor tried again, and it was like bursting a bubble. Loki vanished on the spot.

 

The odds were not in Thor’s favor for sleeping well that night. His mind was full and the apartment was noisy from the broken windows; he’d have to see to that in the morning.

Of course he would. Yet another mess.

He stared at the dim ceiling, marveling at the generations of Migardian innovation and technology that would allow them to travel to the stars so early in their history…and yet find beauty in, well, _starkness_. Tony’s company could manufacture gold and still he chose to adorn a room in beige bed linens, carpet, and walls. If this was what the appearance of wealth meant on Migard, Thor wanted nothing to do with it. A kingdom should have color, he told himself resolutely. He was beginning to nod off, at blessed last.

Now that they’d soiled Stark’s hospitality, perhaps he’d paint the room, maybe a deep crimson or–

Thor sat up straight, instantly awakened on a sultry moan. He listened carefully, certain it had been the start of a dream, but no, the moans kept coming, low and ladylike, obviously well-coaxed.

Despite himself, Thor flushed. There could be no doubting the identity of the coaxer.

Still, this was new, Loki actually bringing his conquests back to the penthouse. His brazenness startled Thor, though not his defiance. Leave it to Loki to do the absolute opposite of whatever –

A new sound broke through, another pleasured sigh. This one was deep and full, masculine in a way that could never belong to Loki. Thor had to admire his brother’s complete lack of restraint: not just one conquest, but two?

The whimpers and groans increased in volume, causing him to squirm uncomfortably on his sheets. He couldn’t ask them to _stop,_ it was as much Loki’s home as it was his, but the noise was truly quite impressive. The man let loose a deep, rumbling growl and woman pleaded for more, the sound of a mattress creaking now adding to the din.

Then the woman began to pant, voice unintelligible but desperate, so loud it was if her breath was in his own ear, and Thor shut his eyes, teeth ground, knotting the sheet in his fist and cursing his brother in every language he knew for putting him through this when suddenly….a revelation occurred to him.

Raising his fist, he called forth a bolt of lightning toward Loki’s room, causing a dazzling flash of light along with its accompanying thunderclap.

As he suspected, the noises came to halt. An _immediate_ halt, with none of the expected shrieks of mortal terror.

Well-pleased with himself, Thor rolled to his side and fell asleep shortly after.

 

Morning found Thor in much higher spirits, drinking down his coffee in the exploded living room, barefoot and humming. The city looked so much more peaceful at dawn. Like a place a person would actually want to live in. It could be Asgard.

“There is a six foot hole in the ceiling.” Once again, Thor had no warning to Loki’s sudden presence. He was simply there, tucked up on the other side of the couch, dressed for the day in his black suit and sipping tea. His hair was still in braids, Thor noticed. “You could have killed someone with that little stunt.”

“Ah, you mean your company?”

“Of course,” Loki hummed, sinking back into the cushions. “Mortals are so fragile.”

“Not _that_ fragile though, right Brother? It sounded like you had your hands full, with both of them.”

“Much more than my hands, I assure you.”

“Hmmm,” Thor made a disinterested noise and drank deeply of his coffee.

“You could have just asked, you know. For us to keep it down. If the noise was too much.”

“Oh, I don’t think that would have done any good,” Thor said airily. He finished his coffee and looked his brother in the eye. “Because there never was any company, was there Loki?”

Loki stared back for a tense moment before giving in with an exaggerated huff. Then he smiled, a real smile, like when they were children and Thor was finally lucky enough to have figured out one of his schemes.

“What gave me away?”

“For the ringleader of a threesome, you were suspiciously silent during the show.”

“And what if my mouth had just been occupied?”

“It was a gamble,” Thor admitted. “And probably a mistake, we’ve destroyed half the penthouse in less than twelve hours.”

“Nevermind that. Tony is coming over this morning to see to the damage personally.”

Thor nodded, intending to return later to the question of when Loki and Stark had advanced to a first name basis. He asked instead, “Brother, why?”

“My date spurned me,” Loki said with a grim twist to his smile. “Once I was undressed. I’ve become a fairly good judge of how people might react when they see me as I really am, but I miscalculated last night. Annoying you was only my second choice in entertainment.”

Thor gave a breath of humorless laughter.

“And I the one who insisted you be yourself. I have much to learn if I’m going to give advice as a king.”

“That is for damn certain,” Loki agreed. He stood and took one last look at the damage. “I may or may not return for the night.”

Thor groaned.

“Already planning for _another_ night of debauchery? Real or false?”

“Well, I did already shave my legs,” Loki smirked, then chuckled at the expression on Thor’s face. “That was a joke, Thor. Brigit and some of the other craftswomen asked for my help negotiating a trade deal. I’m….going to do it.”

Only Loki could be more embarrassed to be caught doing good than caught crafting lies about his sex life.

“Go, then.” Thor smiled now, in spite of himself. “Argue well.”

“Naturally.”

Moments after Loki disappeared, there came a knocking at the door. Thor didn’t open it so much as step out of the way for Stark and a small army of his pet robots, which set to clearing the glass and chattering around the fireplace immediately.

“Good night, eh Point Break? Should have known better than to stick a couple of gods in a place with standard glass. What’d you do, throw Lokes out the window?”

“We had an argument. It’s settled now. I think.”

Tony busied himself following after his robots, though they didn’t appear to need much guidance. One was resetting the framework of the windows while another seemed to be building back the fireplace out of thin air and an obnoxious whirling sound. Tony dropped to one knee to examine the progress with a tape measure made of blue light.

“Damn good thing, my schedule’s too tight for house calls on the regular.” He tapped one side of the fireplace and the robots rushed to thicken the glowing metal. “How’s it going, anyway. How’s the Ass Squad settling in.”

“The Asgardians are resilient,” Thor couldn’t help but boast. “They will succeed here in building a new home. And Loki and I…we will do the same.”

Stark straightened back up, brushing dust from his lean suit. He pulled off his ubiquitous sunglasses and twirled them by the stem around his palm.

“Touching, truly, the ultimate immigrant story, someone oughta get the rights to the movie – will you take a check?"

"Stark."

"Really though, quality work, Hammer Hands, the old man would have been proud.”

“Yes, he would.” Thor knew.

“Anyway, nice to stop by to see what you’ve done with the place, love the open air concept, and, oh yeah, one more thing: I’ve been fucking your brother. Six ways to Sunday and twice last Tuesday. Three times if you count the limo ride. You hungry? Pancakes are on me.”

 


End file.
